


what is going ON with the jonah magnus memorial high school 11th grade class of 2019

by jesimiel



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, also author lives in america so that's what im basing the school system off of. sorry, but like they're insane about it, partially prose partially a chatfic, premise of this au is "the entities are a game made up by a bunch of weird kids", rating is for language and mild sex jokes, you ever get your entire grade into rping warrior cats every recess? its like that kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24981547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesimiel/pseuds/jesimiel
Summary: "this had better get us a good grade," jon mutters darkly, scribbling another few words in his notebook."relax," says tim. "we'll turn it in, get a B, and forget about all of it."(a non-linear chronology of five eighth-graders turning their history project into a game that takes on a life of its own.)(on temporary hiatus as of 10/17/2020, in order to let me work on other projects)(OFF temporary hiatus as of 02/15/2021)
Relationships: John Amherst/Jane Prentiss, Manuela Dominguez & Jan Kilbride & Carter Chilcott, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker & Jonathan “Jon” Sims & Sasha James & Not Sasha James, to be added as they become relevant
Comments: 66
Kudos: 141





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> expanding on the concept so i don't clog up the work tags:  
> -the entities start off as a set of gods that jon, tim, martin, sasha, and not-sasha make up for a history project during their ancient greece unit in which they were tasked with creating a mythology  
> -it ends up becoming sort of a game that most of their grade ends up getting in on. school-wide warrior cats roleplay but instead of warrior cats it's just evil fucked up fear entities. the game spans one year of middle school and all four years of high school but this fic takes place between eighth grade and eleventh grade  
> -almost all of them end up taking it really _really_ seriously to the point where probably 75% of them are convinced that the entities are real, and just enough strange coincidences happen to make it seem like they are  
> -the catch is that jon, tim, martin, sasha, and not-sasha actually originally based the entities off of all their different classmates. most of them never realize this
> 
> find me [here](http://mag055.tumblr.com), i use the tag "hs au" on my blog for stuff related to this. find my best source of inspiration [here](http://wisharcher.tumblr.com).

**monday, january 30th; grade 8**

“let’s come up with more,” says ginger-sasha, twirling a pen around her fingers with one hand and separating two mascara-clumpy eyelashes with the nails of the other. “didn’t you say we needed, like, fifteen?”

“arc number,” says tim. 

blonde-sasha nods. “arc number,” she agrees.

jon taps his own pen against his teeth. “okay, well, we have...um, nine so far,” he says, staring at his sheet of lined paper again. 

"six more," ginger-sasha muses, leaning backwards over the low back of her chair, voice sounding far-away as her face tilts towards the wall. she sits up suddenly, her glasses flinging off her face--blonde-sasha catches them and hands them back--and as she shoves them back on, she says, “wait, wait, do we have just...death? that’s, like, the number one fear.”

they all pause for a moment as jon skims his list. “actually, we don’t,” he says.

“like, ghosts?” blonde-sasha asks skeptically, crossing her arms and resting one foot on tim’s crossed legs. “things that aren’t people but look like it? isn’t that with the strangeness?”

“stranger,” tim corrects, shoving her foot off good-naturedly, “and nah, i think she means, like, the fear of dying. like the fear of being killed.”

“no, that’s the violence,” martin says. “blood and guns and knives and war and stuff. still think that one needs a better name.” 

ginger-sasha tilts her head. “i mean, like….okay. not the fear of dying but the fear of _being_ dead. like you know how people get scared that there’s like, nothing after? or that people will forget them after they die?”

“being forgotten would be the lonely, though, right?” jon says. blonde-sasha shakes her head.

“no, because it’s specifically in the context of being dead, right?”

“perfect!” ginger-sasha holds out a hand, and a grinning blonde-sasha high-fives her. 

martin nods thoughtfully. “okay, yeah, that makes sense.” 

“alright,” jon says, also nodding. “so just, ‘the death’ then?”

“nah, something spookier,” says tim, his mouth turning up at the ends as jon narrows his eyes. “maybe, uh, ‘the passing’?”

“oh, ‘the end’!” ginger-sasha says, clapping once in emphasis. “name it ‘the end’!”

“that’s good,” martin whistles in appreciation as jon jots it down on a new line of his notebook page, and blonde-sasha hums in agreement. “yeah. the end.”

“okay, now it needs some _agents,_ ” says tim gleefully. “who among us are the harbingers of the end-with-a-capital-E?”

“georgie,” says jon immediately. ginger-sasha and blonde-sasha laugh their identical little sasha-laughs, and ginger-sasha flips a lock of hair away from her eyes where it’d fallen into them.

“oh, absolutely,” tim says through a smile. "i'll never forget the look on mrs. keay's face during _that_ discussion."

"i'm genuinely surprised she thought that'd go over _well._ " martin rolls his eyes and rests his cheek against his hand. "like, who tells their english teacher that they want to be a mortician? in the middle of class, no less."

"georgie barker, apparently," snorts ginger-sasha. blonde-sasha giggles.

"okay, so, we have--um, should i read the list?" jon asks, flicking his eyes between the four sitting opposite him. ginger-sasha nods.

"sure, go."

"um, okay. the end, the violence, the watcher, the sky, the desolation--" he has to work hard pronouncing that one, drags out all four syllables, _de-so-la-tion_ , "--the stranger, the lonely, the spider, the madness, uh, and the dark." 

"oh, shit, wait," says tim--now it's his turn to let his burst of inspiration propel him upwards in his seat--"what's the opposite of the sky?"

"the...earth, i guess."

"no, i mean--like. the opposite of open spaces and stuff."

"oh, claustrophobia!"

tim snaps his fingers and grins. "that's the one. that should be a god." 

"good idea." jon moves his pen to a new line. "name ideas?"

"i think 'the earth' works fine," martin says, "'cause, y'know, the opposite of the sky."

"yeah, yeah, i like it," says blonde-sasha, bobbing her head up and down and making her ponytail bounce. "like, being buried alive? under the ground?"

" _exactly,_ " says ginger-sasha, eyes alight. 

"this had better get us a good grade," jon mutters darkly, scribbling another few words in his notebook. 

"relax," says tim. "we'll turn it in, get a B, and forget about all of it."

"i sure hope so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's what's up with sasha (ginger) and not-sasha (blonde) because i thought it was extremely funny. first of all, not-sasha isn't evil or anything, and second of all, they're siblings; not twins, they look completely different, but they ARE the exact same age and this is why. not-sasha is sasha's adopted sister, bc her parents thought it would be good for her to grow up with a sibling. but they adopted not-sasha when she was like.....5 or 6 or so? and she already had a name. and her name was also sasha. and sasha's parents just.... decided not to change it. so they're a pair of sisters that are both legally named "sasha james"


	2. two

**wednesday, october 3rd; grade 10**

[Group Message created: **CARTER C.** \+ **MANUELA D.** \+ **JAN K.** ]

[Enter name of Group Message?] —> **YES**

[Enter name of Group Message:] **dominguez and the boyz**

[Group Message has been renamed to “dominguez and the boyz” by **JAN K.** ]

 **MANUELA** : genuinely I hope you die 

[Group Message has been renamed to “space trio” by **CARTER C.** ]

 **MANUELA** : THANK you  
**JAN** : Youre both no fun  
**CARTER** : i want to get a head start on our project for physics, theres no point in screwing around with the stupid group chat name  
**JAN** : Whatever  
**MANUELA** : do you have the thing for it  
**CARTER** : what thing  
**MANUELA** : the uhhhhhhh  
**MANUELA** : I think it’s a google document or something  
**CARTER** : OH yeah jan has it  
**CARTER** : can you share it with us  
**MANUELA** : hop to it airhead we’re burning daylight  
**JAN** : Shut up my laptops frozen  
**MANUELA** : big L for you mr. kilbride but we still have to do this project  
**MANUELA** : can you do it on mobile  
**JAN** : No nevermind its unfrozen again hold on  
**JAN** : [https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_UloB5wreyejngDqR4bf-jkdqtUOo/edit]  
**JAN** : Ok is it working  
**MANUELA** : yeah we’re all set  
**CARTER** : thank you  
**JAN** : o7

[Skip to timestamp: **5:48 pm** ]

 **CARTER** : oh my god can you stop moving the images around  
**JAN** : My computer is a piece of garbage sorry it keeps jerking my cursor around  
**MANUELA** : it keeps shifting the text cut it out!!!  
**JAN** : Im not fucking DOING it on purpose  
**MANUELA** : I can’t even lock you out of editing it because you own the document  
**CARTER** : thats rude :(  
**JAN** : Would you do that 2 me  
**MANUELA** : in an instant  
**JAN** : I admire your honesty @ the very least  
**MANUELA** : to lie to you is to do you a disservice  
**CARTER** : quit talking like bond villains and help me make this infographic  
**CARTER** : if i get below a B on this report i wont forgive you guys  
**MANUELA** : you can’t see me but I’m sticking my tongue out at you right now  
**JAN** : Wait actually can you guys video chat  
**CARTER** : yeah i can  
**MANUELA** : my computer doesn’t have a camera but it has a microphone so I can get on voice  
**JAN** : Thank god reading all this text is starting 2 make my eyes cross

[Skip to timestamp: **8:09 pm** ]

[Access transcription of audio?] —> **YES**

 **CARTER** : oh my god are we done??  
**MANUELA** : I think so  
**JAN** : Holy shit  
**JAN** : Mr rayner gave us like 2 weeks 2 do this thing  
**MANUELA** : oh jesus I didn’t even notice that  
**JAN** : YOU THOUGHT WE HAD 2 DO THIS ALL TONIGHT????  
**MANUELA** : I DID…...  
**CARTER** : ok well like at least its DONE we dont have to worry  
**JAN** : True  
**MANUELA** : you’re right  
**CARTER** : hmmm  
**CARTER** : do you guys want to do something else now?  
**JAN** : Like what  
**CARTER** : we can watch a movie? i have a subscription to netflix  
**JAN** : Sure im down  
**CARTER** : i mean if you had plans or anything dont let me keep you  
**JAN** : What could i be doing @ 8pm on a wednesday  
**MANUELA** : honestly I was planning to disconnect and go play a video game but if you two want to watch something I’ll join you  
**JAN** : Wed love 2 have you wink wink  
**MANUELA** : yeah okay. sure I’ll stay  
**CARTER** : :D  
**JAN** : What do you want 2 watch  
**CARTER** : oh i dont know  
**CARTER** : i wasnt sure you guys would agree to watch something at all  
**MANUELA** : oh can I pick  
**CARTER** : sure  
**JAN** : Ok  
**MANUELA** : okay you said netflix right  
**CARTER** : yeah  
**MANUELA** : see if apollo 18 is on there  
**JAN** : Im not watching your stupid space horror movies  
**MANUELA** : shut up idiot

[Skip to timestamp: **9:35 pm** ]

[Access transcription of audio?] —> **YES**

 **JAN** : That movie was shit  
**CARTER** : yeah a bit  
**MANUELA** : leave me alone  
**MANUELA** : I remembered it being better when I saw it in the theaters  
**JAN** : That movie came out in like 2011  
**JAN** : Was little 8 year old manuela dominguez in the cinema watching a bunch of astronauts get their clocks cleaned by aliens  
**MANUELA** : maybe she was  
**MANUELA** : I like scary movies  
**CARTER** : so do i  
**CARTER** : but like, good ones  
**MANUELA** : what EVER  
**MANUELA** : what’s your favorite horror movies then. if your tastes are so much better than mine  
**CARTER** : oculus  
**JAN** : 2001 a space odyssey  
**MANUELA** : that’s not a horror movie  
**JAN** : Yes it is  
**MANUELA** : no it’s not  
**JAN** : Yes it literally is  
**MANUELA** : what’s the horror element?  
**JAN** : The fucking computer was trying to kill him thats the horror element  
**MANUELA** : 2001 is purely sci fi because it’s got aliens  
**CARTER** : so did apollo 18  
**MANUELA** : and we agreed that apollo 18 was shitty  
**CARTER** : but its still horror even if its shitty horror  
**CARTER** : and it had aliens. i dont see why 2001 cant be a horror movie  
**JAN** : Yeah see  
**MANUELA** : I can’t stand you people. I can’t work in this environment

[Skip to timestamp: **12:57 am** ]

[Access transcription of audio?] —> **YES**

 **JAN** : No i mean like im not condemning you or anything i just genuinely think you have something wrong w you in the head  
**MANUELA** : WHY  
**CARTER** : normal people dont talk about wanting to blow up the sun  
**CARTER** : youre gonna grow up to be like a DC supervillainess  
**MANUELA** : I don’t want to blow up the sun I just think it would be nice if it were darker just in general I think it would improve our quality of life  
**MANUELA** : did you know that if the sun was replaced by a black hole of equal mass our orbit wouldn’t change at all  
**MANUELA** : like we wouldn’t get sucked in or anything everything would be fine  
**JAN** : Aside from everyone freezing + dying you mean  
**MANUELA** : everything would be fine  
**CARTER** : cool! youre terrifying  
**MANUELA** : heavy is the crown  
**JAN** : Of knowing cool space facts  
**MANUELA** : yes  
**CARTER** : do hot black holes exist  
**CARTER** : or like what if the sun was just black. like if it was made out of things that combusted black  
**JAN** : Is that possible  
**MANUELA** : I don’t know let me look  
**MANUELA** : google says it’s only theoretically possible sorry carter  
**CARTER** : :(  
**JAN** : Lame  
**MANUELA** : if I ever make it happen you two will be the first to know  
**JAN** : Im honored  
**CARTER** : me too!  
**MANUELA** : :]  
**CARTER** : ok we should go to bed its a school night  
**JAN** : Wimp  
**CARTER** : im not a wimp i just dont want to oversleep tomorrow  
**CARTER** : i have a history test in first period and mr lukas will kill me for real this time if i miss it  
**MANUELA** : understandable  
**JAN** : I hate that guy  
**CARTER** : me too he gives me the creeps  
**MANUELA** : I don’t really care about him but I know he doesn’t like ME  
**JAN** : Why whatd you do  
**MANUELA** : broke the desklight in his room in grade nine  
**JAN** : With WHAT  
**MANUELA** : rubber band gun  
**CARTER** : holy shit  
**MANUELA** : it was very funny but he hates me now  
**JAN** : Worth it in my opinion  
**MANUELA** : oh definitely  
**CARTER** : ok im going to sleep now  
**CARTER** : ill see you guys tomorrow!  
**MANUELA** : okay good night  
**JAN** : Night

[Audio disconnection notice: **CARTER C.** ]

 **MANUELA** : what now  
**JAN** : I dont know  
**MANUELA** : I don’t have netflix but I think I have hulu if you want to watch another movie  
**JAN** : No thats ok  
**JAN** : I mean we can if you want?  
**MANUELA** : we don’t HAVE to it was just a suggestion  
**MANUELA** : are you going to go to bed  
**JAN** : Not yet  
**JAN** : Im not really tired  
**JAN** : I just dont feel like watching anything  
**MANUELA** : me either  
**MANUELA** : I can keep talking but I have to get off of voice chat or my parents will get mad  
**JAN** : Understood

[Audio disconnection notice: **MANUELA D.** ]  
[Audio disconnection notice: **JAN K.** ]

 **MANUELA** : hey how far away do you live  
**JAN** : Uhhhh relative 2 what  
**MANUELA** : school  
**JAN** : Oh like 6 blocks or so  
**JAN** : 20 min walk  
**MANUELA** : hmmm what street  
**JAN** : Daedalus  
**JAN** : Im in 286 the gray house on the corner by the fucked up stop sign  
**MANUELA** : oh  
**MANUELA** : you live two houses down from me  
**JAN** : Do i???  
**MANUELA** : how did I never know that  
**MANUELA** : hold on a second  
**JAN** : Whats up  
**JAN** : ???  
**MANUELA** : open your window  
**MANUELA** : your bedroom one I mean  
**MANUELA** : the one that faces the front  
**JAN** : Dude  
**MANUELA** : why are you TEXTING me still  
**JAN** : Id yell down @ you if it wasnt the middle of the night  
**MANUELA** : fair enough  
**JAN** : Why are you here  
**MANUELA** : we were bored  
**JAN** : Generally boredom doesnt translate 2 you showing up outside my house @ 1:30 in the morning  
**MANUELA** : well I’ve never been to your house in general  
**MANUELA** : in all our ten years of friendship  
**JAN** : That wasnt my point  
**MANUELA** : I know that  
**MANUELA** : can I come in it’s cold out  
**JAN** : Why didnt you bring a jacket  
**MANUELA** : well I sort of expected you would let me IN  
**JAN** : Im rolling my eyes if you cant see that far  
**JAN** : You can come in but you cant use the door or my mom will freak out  
**MANUELA** : okay  
**JAN** : Go to the left around the side  
**MANUELA** : on it  
**MANUELA** : jan. there’s nothing here  
**JAN** : No you have 2 climb the tree  
**JAN** : Like in the movies  
**MANUELA** : I love how you just make things difficult  
**JAN** : Its a talent  
**JAN** : The windows unlocked it leads 2 my bedroom  
**JAN** : Be quiet please  
**JAN** : Genuinely think if my parents find out i snuck a girl in my room on a wednesday night ill wake up in my grave tomorrow  
**MANUELA** : relax patsy I’m stealthy  
**MANUELA** : I’m going to need you to pull me up though the last branch is too low for me to jump it  
**JAN** : Ok will do

* * *

**thursday, october 4th; grade 10**

“ _christ_ , you’re heavy,” jan grits out, hands locked around manuela’s skinny wrists as he pulls her through the screen opening of the window. “how do you weigh so much? you’re so _tiny_.”

“i’m dense,” says manuela, “like a black hole— _!_ ” as she hauls herself into the room, her bare foot slips on the window ledge and her leg goes out from under her, her pinky toenail bending back and her knee striking the sill with a sharp crack. 

“oh, jesus, are you okay?” jan winces at the sound of impact before diving forwards and smacking the palm of his hand over manuela’s mouth to muffle her slightly belated squeal of pain. “ _dude_!”

“sorry, sorry, _fuck_ ,” manuela says behind jan’s hand, one of her own hands wrapped around her foot and the other clutching at her knee. 

“do you need, like, a band-aid, or—“

“i’m fine—i’m fine, c’mon, get _off_ me, kilbride!” manuela removes her left hand from her knee and slings a fist, half-hearted and painless, at jan’s shoulder. jan skitters back.

“damn, okay,” she says, letting go of her foot at last. “okay, i’m good.”

“i’m glad,” says jan dryly. manuela, perched on the end of his bed with her sunglasses pushed up into her dark hair, makes a rude gesture.

[Skip to timestamp: **3:21 am** ]

“hey,” says manuela sleepily, shifting her elbow so that it no longer threatens to crush her sunglasses, folded neatly next to her on the bed. 

“wuh,” says jan intelligently into her shoulder, folded next to her on the opposite side, with one arm positioned up uncomfortably above his head and the other stretched out across manuela’s stomach. she considers moving it, as she becomes aware of it, but decides not to.

“d’you want me to go? ‘s pretty late,” she whispers instead, tilting her head and looking at jan, who himself has to look slightly up to meet her eyes. “are your parents going to be mad?”

“nah,” jan says, closing his eyes again. “school starts b’fore they wake up, anyhow, just—just gotta leave early.”

“‘kay,” manuela concedes, sliding her glasses farther away before turning on her side to fully face jan. “‘s fun doing stuff at night, y’know?”

“you’re right.” jan’s returned mostly to sleep. manuela watches his face, pale in the darkness of the room.

“should call carter next time,” she says.

“myeah,” agrees jan. “didn’t feel right without him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot relevance? who's that. i post what i want


	3. three

**friday, february 2nd; grade 8**

[Private Message: **SASHA J.** \+ **SASHA J.** ]  
[Load previous messages?] —> **NO**

 **SASHA** : wait wait the username  
**SASHA** : Oh ok

[Change usertag?] → **YES**  
[Enter new usertag.] → **SASHA 2**  
[ **SASHA J.** has changed their usertag to **SASHA 2 J.**!]

 **SASHA 2** : How’s this???  
**SASHA** : perfect  
**SASHA 2** : Ok so when’s the thing due again???  
**SASHA** : two weeks but we’re almost done  
**SASHA** : we have to come up with one more entity and then make up the rituals  
**SASHA** : because like. they’re gods right? so it makes sense they’d have worshipers  
**SASHA** : is it worshipers or worshippers  
**SASHA 2** : Two P’s  
**SASHA** : damn  
**SASHA** : anyway  
**SASHA** : yeah two weeks  
**SASHA 2** : Ok!!! I’ve been meaning to talk abt the rituals w you  
**SASHA** : ?  
**SASHA 2** : Martin and I think it’d be cool if there was one ritual for each god and the point of it was to sort of, like  
**SASHA 2** : “Bring the entity into the mortal world” as it were  
**SASHA 2** : Bc they sort of exist outside of the human world like in Norse mythology  
**SASHA** : yeah that makes sense! i like that a lot actually  
**SASHA** : so instead of just paying tribute or whatever the rituals are actually there to kind of call out to a specific god and make a doorway into our world  
**SASHA 2** : Yeah exactly!!! ^_^  
**SASHA** : okay i like it  
**SASHA** : did you tell tim and jon  
**SASHA 2** : I know Martin told Jon, but idk if Tim knows yet  
**SASHA 2** : We also had some ideas for rituals  
**SASHA** : oh cool! hold on a second i have to get jon’s notebook  
**SASHA** : he lent it to me so i could write down stuff for the project over the weekend  
**SASHA 2** : Ok!!!  
**SASHA** : okay back  
**SASHA** : you said you had ritual ideas?  
**SASHA 2** : Yeah yeah ok ummmm  
**SASHA 2** : So we thought of ones for like...half of the entities  
**SASHA 2** : We’ve got the sky, the earth, the lonely, the violence, the dark, the madness, and the desolation  
**SASHA 2** : We still need rituals for the watcher, the stranger, the end, the web, the hunt, the flesh, and the changing  
**SASHA** : wait wait what’s the last entity  
**SASHA 2** : No we need that too  
**SASHA 2** : We still need one more it’s driving Jon crazy trying to think of one  
**SASHA** : oh okay. ummm you’ve got clowns right  
**SASHA 2** : Yes that’s the stranger  
**SASHA** : you’ve got public speaking  
**SASHA 2** : The watcher  
**SASHA** : drowning?  
**SASHA 2** : The sky and the earth  
**SASHA** : uh  
**SASHA** : nuclear war  
**SASHA 2** : The changing!!! But you’re getting too specific  
**SASHA 2** : It has to be, like  
**SASHA 2** : Very broad  
**SASHA 2** : So that a lot of stuff fits under the category  
**SASHA 2** : Every entity is the god of many things  
**SASHA** : yeah that makes sense  
**SASHA** : what entity presides over just. gross things  
**SASHA** : like mold. do we have a mold god? i’m scared of mold, kind of  
**SASHA** : i ran into john and jane behind the cafeteria where the dumpsters are on the way home from school and i didn’t get a good view of what they were messing with but whatever it was had a repulsive enough smell i about had to take a detour to the bathroom go vomit  
**SASHA 2** : EW  
**SASHA 2** : Um maybe that would be….the flesh???  
**SASHA** : no that’s not it  
**SASHA 2** : Yeah you’re right  
**SASHA 2** : I’ll ask Jon but maybe this can be our last entity  
**SASHA** : you can group it in with bugs too  
**SASHA 2** : Isn’t that the web???  
**SASHA** : no i mean bugs that aren’t spiders! like  
**SASHA** : i don’t know. worms and ants and flies and stuff  
**SASHA 2** : Oh ok  
**SASHA 2** : What do we call it  
**SASHA** : no idea :[  
**SASHA** : maybe ummmm  
**SASHA** : it’s the whole group of dirty gross stuff right?  
**SASHA 2** : Probably yeah  
**SASHA** : does ‘the filth’ work?  
**SASHA** : it sounds godly enough in my opinion. or does it sound too much like the flesh  
**SASHA** : filth is a three dollar word  
**SASHA 2** : If you’re in fourth grade LOL  
**SASHA** : >:[  
**SASHA 2** : Idk the filth is probably fine? Like I said I’ll ask Jon in first period tomorrow  
**SASHA** : okay  
**SASHA** : tell me about the rituals before we forget come on  
**SASHA 2** : Oh jesus you’re right  
**SASHA 2** : Ok ummmm  
**SASHA 2** : Martin says they should all require human sacrifice  
**SASHA** : brutal! i like it  
**SASHA 2** : No yes I totally agreed  
**SASHA 2** : So the lonely ritual Martin named it the silence

* * *

**saturday, february 3rd; grade 8**

“i think some of these need more godly names,” tim hums, reading again over the crumpled sheet of notebook paper that carries the most vital information for their project. “no offense, or anything, but a few are a bit dumb.”

“i’ve been _saying_!” martin half-shouts from the armchair he’s draped sideways over, his glasses hanging off his face by one ear. 

“got any suggestions?” says ginger-sasha, picking at the chipping polish on her nails.

“change ‘the violence’ to ‘the slaughter’,” martin says immediately. “that sounds way more divine.”

“who’s idea was _that_?”

“couldn’t it have been _mine_?” says martin, a bit snippily. blonde-sasha sticks her tongue out, and martin deflates a little. “melanie’s.”

jon looks up from the book. “you told melanie?” he asks sharply.

“yeah, is, uh—should i not have?”

“she’s _in_ our history class, dude, she’s working with daisy and basira and georgie and gerry—i swear to god, if she steals our ideas, i’m gonna—“ tim makes a gesture that’s a bit difficult to discern, but is probably meant to be a mime of him shaking someone violently by the shoulders. martin shrinks back. 

“make ‘the watcher’ into ‘the eye’, too,” says ginger-sasha, and martin looks to her, grateful for the save. “watcher sounds too much like, uh, a person. ‘s gotta be more godly.”

“yes, okay,” says jon distractedly, making a note in his book. “any others?”

“yeah, ‘the sky’ should be something different,” says tim, twiddling a pencil between his fingers. “‘cause it’s not _just_ the sky, right? it’s, like, the ocean and stuff too?”

“true,” jon hums. “any suggestions?”

the peanut gallery pauses. 

“uh, the…big...ness?” wheedles blonde-sasha.

"wait, wait." martin snaps his fingers. “the vast.”

“oh, that’s _perfect_ ,” jon says, scribbling it in the book. martin flushes, and tim cracks a smile.


	4. four

**monday, june 7th; grade 10**

“someone asked me on a date yesterday,” martin begins. detention’s sparse today, everyone else on good behavior after the weekend, and aside from oliver banks (currently dead asleep at his desk, betraying the reason he’s even there), the only occupied seats hold tim and melanie, both of whom light up attentively at martin’s proclamation. 

“ooh, _who?_ ” asks melanie with unguarded interest, tipping her chair back to twist her skinny body at the waist and lean over martin’s desk as he rummages in his bag for a notebook with, perhaps, more than a handful of clean sheets of paper to do his homework on. “ _not_ jared hopworth again, i hope.”

martin shrugs. “nope. it was annabelle.”

melanie almost falls out of her chair. “class president _cane_ asked you out on a _date?_ the spider queen herself? i didn't even know she liked you.”

“i didn’t even know she liked _boys,_ ” says tim flatly. melanie giggles. 

“what’d you say?” tim asks a moment later, leant over martin’s desktop similar to melanie, chin resting on his hands. "didja take her up on it?"

martin shrugs again. “i sort of...deflected. she scares me a bit.”

“thought you liked spiders.”

“i do! i wouldn’t like to date annabelle though. she always makes me feel like she’s about to bite me whenever we talk.”

“understandable,” says tim. “but hey, at least it’s her, and not the _other_ girl we know with a strange fixation on bugs.”

“jane’s not _that_ bad,” yawns martin, flipping to a blank page in his notebook and starting on yet another round of math. they’re graphing logarithms in his class--or, at least, everyone else is. martin hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet. “we worked on a group project in history last year for, like, two weeks. she came over to my house and everything and it was completely fine. we even got a good grade. i’m not actually sure why we apparently don’t like her?”

martin suddenly becomes very aware that tim’s looking at him as though he’s grown several extra eyes. “she was in your _house?_ and you _survived?_ she didn’t even make you eat any earthworms or anything like that?”

martin’s rebuttal of _of course she didn’t make me eat worms, idiot_ is cut off by melanie, who is similarly incredulous.

“honestly, _i’m_ just surprised you managed to unglue her from amherst for more than fifteen minutes at a time.”

“ew, don’t remind me of that,” says tim, his freckled face twisting in exaggerated disgust. “those two are _the_ nastiest human beings alive.”

"human beings?" quips martin. tim sticks his tongue out and pinches martin's forearm.

melanie’s chair slams down back on four legs as she scratches something into the surface of her desk with her penknife. “they don’t even act like they _like_ each other like that, really,” she muses. “i’d honestly think they were probably siblings if practically every minute they aren’t being creepy wasn’t spent trying to bite each other's tongues out.”

“i _have_ seen her put her fingers in his mouth before,” martin says, nodding in understanding. melanie makes her best gross-out noise.

“yeah, and prentiss took her jacket off in p.e. last week and i _literally_ wanted to take a photo for the guinness book of world records because you could see what was, i think, legitimately the earth’s _largest_ hickey, and it was, like, almost in her armpit. it was surreal. i don’t even want to know _what_ those two do when they’re alone together,” she says, and tim does some sort of dramatic tim-thing with his face that makes it look like the whole thing is being pinched in all-consuming abhorrence.

“urgh, you know they’re in my economics class? they sit in the back together, and i swear to you, i swear on my _life,_ i turned around to ask them something last week and i watched her, like, she took his face in her hands like they were gonna kiss, right, and then she _licked_ him. all the way up the side of his weird, dirty face. and he went, like, bright red, and he made a noise like he was _into_ it. watching it made me want to die. i couldn’t even eat lunch next period because every time i tried, it would just, like, replay in my head again.” tim suppresses a shiver at the recollection. “any people who flirt like that aren’t getting within twenty kilometers of _my_ house.”

melanie, for her part, looks utterly revolted. martin, however, not to be fazed, rolls his eyes behind his glasses and scribbles an answer to another math problem. 

“okay, yeah, like, that’s…. _weird_ , i get that, but where’d you get the worm-eating thing from?”

“amherst would eat ants in the sixth grade, if you paid him,” says tim immediately, in a way that makes it extremely obvious that he has, at one point, given john amherst money to eat ants.

before martin can reply, melanie interrupts. “okay, wait,” she says, flicking her knife closed and slipping it into her pocket, “speaking of john and jane. since you two seem to have insider knowledge on the resident filth freaks. did--sorry, i just remembered this--did jordan kennedy _actually_ have a threeway with them? because _i_ don’t think he did, but i know what jude looks like when she’s lying and she did _not_ seem like she was trying to fuck with me when she told me that, and i just want to know if i need to, like, spray him with lysol or something the next time i see him in the hallway.”

“oh, christ--i don’t know?” tim furrows his brow as he considers the possibility. “i don’t know, maybe he _did_. he _is_ one of the only people that’ll hang out with them willingly.”

“yeah, but he also sets trash on fire with molina and vanderstock behind the school every thursday. it’s, like, their fucked up homoerotic bonding activity. amherst and prentiss scatter like the weird little cockroaches they are if you get near them with so much as a lit cigarette,” argues melanie. “they’d never go for it. kennedy’s too much of a pyro.”

“all that grease on them makes them flammable,” tim mutters. martin chokes down a laugh and says,

“you could just _ask_ him, you know. i know he’s in your math class.”

“absolutely no way, i barely _know_ him,” hisses melanie. “yeah, great idea, _blackwood,_ introduce myself to some guy with _that_ question. he’d deny it either way, anyhow, nobody on earth would admit they’d screwed those freakazoids unless they were, like, at gunpoint. maybe not even then.”

“you’ve _got_ a penknife.”

“what’s _your_ opinion, marto?” tim queries, his faux-professionalism marred by the affectionate nickname, spinning in his seat to fully face martin. melanie does the same. “you’ve been suspiciously quiet regarding your own thoughts.”

“yeah, ‘cause i’m trying to do _homework._ ” martin puts down his pen and leans back in his chair, squinting up at the ceiling as he formulates a response. “considering everyone in this school, i would definitely list jordan kennedy as being one of the top five people _most_ likely to have sex with _both_ john amherst _and_ jane prentiss,” he says decisively, chewing on a thumbnail in apparent deep thought, “but i don’t think he actually _did_.”

melanie nods in concession. “yeah, that’s fair. curious about the rest of that list, though,” she says, waggling her eyebrows pointedly.

“okay, beholder,” tim snorts. melanie makes a rude gesture.

“i’ll make sure to write it out for you,” says martin solemnly, and melanie grins.

“jude says jordan did it, though, and he _is_ one of her whack-job friends, so…”

“oh, since when do you believe everything _jude_ says? she’s almost as much of an ivory tower of rumor as _jon_. i still haven’t forgiven her for snitching on me and MD when she saw us sneak into the auditorium last semester,” tim bites out. “we weren’t _doing_ anything, she just forgot her sunglasses, which jude knew _damn_ well—“

“is it true she had to write lines _again?_ ” martin asks, homework forgotten as it often is in favor of swapping gossip. tim nods, his face a mask of solemn rapport for manuela dominguez, his fallen comrade-in-mischief. “wow."

"ms. robinson _is_ a stickler for the kind of punishments you see in the movies," melanie hums.

"i don’t know if she’s actually even in trouble that often, or if it just _seems_ like it.”

“christ, but it’s _funny,_ ” snorts melanie, “or least it was when she broke mr. rayner’s lamp.” she raises a hand to mime writing on an invisible whiteboard. “‘i—will—not—serve—the—dark—by—shooting—rubber—bands—at—the—lightbulbs—‘“

“oh my god, i forgot about her rubber band gun.”

"i mean, that is, like, one of the most manuela things to do, i think. why do literally _anything_ else, when you can cause actual property damage?”

“i respect her,” says melanie sincerely. tim nods in agreement. martin rolls his eyes again, fishing around in his bag for an eraser. these logarithms aren’t going to graph themselves.

* * *

**thursday, april 14th; grade 11**

Private Message: **BASIRA H.** \+ **DAISY T.**  
[Load previous messages?] —> NO

 **DAISY** : what in all hell was that noise  
**BASIRA** : What noise?  
**DAISY** : ummm the HUGE thumping noise from upstairs like two mins ago  
**DAISY** : was it not in ms montagues room or….  
**BASIRA** : OH that. Yeah it was in here.  
**DAISY** : what happened  
**DAISY** : mike shove grant walker off a desk again????  
**BASIRA** : Jon tried to squish a spider and accidentally sent a bookshelf through the wall.  
**DAISY** : ?????? LOL?????  
**DAISY** : is everyone ok though  
**BASIRA** : Yeah.  
**BASIRA** : The wall was facing the hallway it was the bit where the drywalls uncovered.  
**BASIRA** : You know by the drinking fountain?  
**DAISY** : yeah  
**BASIRA** : Only one in the hallway was Jane.  
**BASIRA** : Scared her half out of her wits when the wall broke open three feet in front of her but otherwise everyones fine.  
**BASIRA** : Ms Montague might break her no-detention rule for this one though.  
**DAISY** : is jon crying  
**BASIRA** : A little bit.  
**DAISY** : take a photo for me  
**DAISY** : i have got to see this  
**BASIRA** : [Photo_04_26_18.png]  
**DAISY** : GOD  
**DAISY** : THATS SUCH A BIG HOLE  
**DAISY** : hes definitely getting sent to mr bouchard for this one


	5. five

**thursday, april 14th; grade 11**

after-school is slightly more populated than it has been lately. the three space cadets are crammed into the far corner, today’s detention-worthy crimes not immediately obvious, poring over a drawing on a sheet of legal paper that might be blueprints for a rocket ship and might be carter chilcott’s physics homework—manuela is scribbling some sort of extensively long and greek-letter-filled equation on the bottom of it either way, and jan and carter are watching over her skinny shoulders with marked interest. melanie, again, sits at her scratched desk with her sneakered feet propped up on top of it. tim is absent but basira is not, though she’s currently dozing in her seat with her pointy little chin resting on her folded arms, her square glasses set neatly on the desktop beside her and the loose hem of her headscarf pooling on her shoulders. mike and daisy are glaring in the back, gritting their teeth and elbowing each other; _their_ reason for being there is easily gleaned, as daisy’s nose is plugged with pink-stained cotton, mike’s left eye is ringed with an impressive purple-red bruise, and both of their arms are plastered with band-aids. jon is next to daisy, arms crossed pensively, eyes flicking between her and mike as he attempts to gauge the necessity of physically separating them. lastly, at the front sits a quiet michael, doodling absently in his notebook and twisting a strand of curly hair between two long fingers. 

“hi,” mumbles basira sleepily, turning her head and cracking open one bleary brown eye as martin puts his things down and parks himself at his usual desk. “missed you at lunch. sasha squared actually saved your seat this time.”

“i had to go do something for mrs. keay. she’s swapping classrooms with ms. robinson and she asked me to help her move boxes.”

“ew.” melanie’s nose wrinkles. “i can’t stand her. wonder who she had to hex to get a son.”

“gerry’s cool,” martin argues. “it’s not his fault his mom is a witch.”

“of course gerry’s cool. _i_ think gerry is cool, he’s got badass tattoos and promised to give me a nose piercing when i turn sixteen and does my history homework in exchange for candy bars. mrs. keay is just insane, and i find it hard to believe that any man would have willingly knocked her up,” melanie argues right back. “she’s not exactly a catch.”

“well, _now_ she isn’t, she’s a sixty-two year old english teacher. she might have been hot when she was younger, though,” martin reasons. “guys have _things_ for redheads, or something.”

“or something,” melanie says under her breath, though she drops the matter. she snaps the rubber band around her wrist a few times, looking around the room boredly. it’s silent, save for hushed whispers from the corner of the room, the scratching of michael’s pencil, and the occasional muffled smacking noise accompanied by hisses of pain generated by _whatever_ it is that mike and daisy are doing. 

after a moment, martin is startled out of what he would like to call “academic focus” but was, in actual fact, most likely a boredom-induced zone-out by the appearance of jon at the desk across from him. 

“you have ms. montague for math,” he says hurriedly, and it isn’t _really_ a question, but he’s right, so martin nods in answer anyway.

“mm-hmm, fourth period. why?”

“could i ask you for, um—“ he fumbles for a moment before simply tilting his head towards martin’s bag meaningfully, clamming up a bit at the prospect of what was technically, in his mind, cheating. martin picks up the slack.

“homework answers, yeah, of course, hold on a second—“ he can see jon physically deflate in relief as he ducks down to tug his notebook free of his bag, riffling through it towards the back, where a neat page of algebra is located right where he’d left it last night. he smooths out the dog-eared corner and slides it to jon, who wrenches his phone out of his jacket pocket and takes a grateful photo. 

“didn’t take you for a cheater, sims,” melanie fires off from the desk next to jon, and he bristles in irritation.

“i’m not a _cheater,_ i just—i forgot,” he says, with an amount of guilt completely unnecessary for talking to children with whom he is also in detention. “i was up late working on that history project, 'cause oliver and annabelle kept asking me about it and it was making me nervous. that’s why i have detention today at all—mr. dekker caught me without yesterday’s lab sheet in biology and i’m not risking another afternoon _here._ ”

“ms. montague doesn’t give detentions, you know,” says basira, slightly more awake-ly, sitting up and rubbing at one eye before slipping her glasses back on and blinking experimentally. “doesn’t believe in them. she says they’re the same as time-outs for little kids and a ‘burden on the shoulders of productivity,’ or something like that, you know how she is.”

“ _not_ true—ow, _fuck_ —she’s why _we’re_ even _here,_ ” calls daisy, a bit nasally from the cotton up her nose, bringing up her unoccupied left hand to free her right one from where it’s currently being pinched and prodded by mike’s sharp fingernails. 

“that’s bullshit and you know that, we’re here because _you_ jumped me in the breezeway after sixth period and ms. montague saw,” says mike, very matter-of-factly, before his face contorts into a pained grimace that flashes his silvery electric-blue braceface as daisy pulls roughly on his ear, “and then _she_ told principal _bouchard_ , and _he_ gave us detention.”

“nit-picker.”

“nitwit.”

“blockhead.”

“bitch.”

“who _cares,_ ” melanie cuts in, before their tennis match can escalate any further. “you’re here, aren’t you? shut up and do some homework or something instead of pulling each other’s pigtails for another hour and a half, christ.”

mike sticks his tongue out at her turned back but concedes begrudgingly, sitting fully back in his chair and away from daisy, though not without first flicking her hard on the side of the head as a parting acknowledgment. daisy sticks her own tongue out at him in turn, still dyed an unappealing toxic green along the dip in the middle from flagrantly indulging in her sour gummy addiction at lunch, and tugs again on his ear in retaliation before leaning down to retrieve a textbook from her backpack, which is lying where it was haphazardly tossed upon her entry to the room a half an hour ago. 

“hey, what happened in second period today?” asks melanie, changing the subject rather suddenly, snapping the band one final time around her wrist before tugging it off and smoothly wrapping her candy-colored hair into a small, only slightly disheveled bun at the back of her neck. “heard a big ol’ crash-bang from ms. robinson’s room. someone knock something over?” she directs the question, only half-joking, to basira and jon, and both of their reactions make melanie’s eyebrows threaten to climb into her hairline—jon flushes a deep, embarrassed red, while basira loses all trace of sleepiness as she brings her hands up to her mouth and tries very, very hard not to burst into giggles. 

“ _jon_ tried to kill a _spider,_ ” whispers basira conspiratorially through her manicured fingers, a bright smile splitting her face behind her hands. daisy makes an amused noise from behind her, and across the room, michael gives a surreptitious snort of laughter.

“oh, here goes,” mutters martin.

* * *

**tuesday, february 6th; grade 8**

Private Message: **MANUELA D.** \+ **JAN K.**  
[Load previous messages?]--> NO

 **JAN:** Hes late  
**MANUELA:** what  
**JAN:** Carter  
**MANUELA:** who cares  
**JAN:** Hes like never late what if something happened  
**MANUELA:** what the hell do you mean he's never late he's gone from first period more often than me  
**JAN:** Ok how was i supposed 2 know???? Not like i HAVE first period with you guys  
**MANUELA:** carter's probably fine  
**MANUELA:** I mean we both know his morning ritual is wake up get dressed dry swallow adderall haul ass to school before the bell rings  
**MANUELA:** I am not at all surprised he’s late  
**JAN:** Yeah but its still worrying  
**JAN:** Like. Bc its us  
**MANUELA:** yeah like I guess so but cut him a break we all live far away  
**JAN:** Fair enough i guess

Group Message: **MANUELA D.** \+ **JAN K.** \+ **CARTER C.**  
[Load previous messages?]--> NO

 **CARTER:** hello!  
**MANUELA:** the man of the hour arrives  
**JAN:** Hi  
**MANUELA:** are you ready to go? we didn’t know if you were going to show  
**CARTER:** oh no I was just running a little behind….as usual haha  
**JAN:** Want some socks 4 those cold feet  
**CARTER:** no!!!!! I just couldnt find my jacket. god  
**CARTER:** I DO want something from mcdonald's  
**MANUELA:** come ON I want some fries let’s go before someone sees us  
**MANUELA:** I’m sitting on the wall behind the tennis court  
**CARTER:** the stone one?  
**MANUELA:** yes hurry up  
**MANUELA:** FUCK  
**JAN:** What  
**MANUELA:** okay I’m behind the wall now mr. fielding is doing fucking  
**MANUELA:** grounds patrol or something and I think he saw me  
**JAN:** Shit  
**CARTER:** oh, no…  
**MANUELA:** HE SAW ME  
**MANUELA:** HE’S WALKING TOWARDS ME ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION  
**MANUELA:** okay I want you two to know I love you both more than anything in the world  
**MANUELA:** tell callum not to touch any of my shit while I’m dead  
**CARTER:** manuela  
**MANUELA:** give my sexy girlfriend karolina a kiss for me  
**JAN:** Are you fucking dying or something  
**JAN:** Im not kissing your girlfriend  
**JAN:** Manuela  
**CARTER:** manuela????  
**JAN:** Manuela dominguez pick up ur phone  
**CARTER:** did he kill you????

[Private Message: **MANUELA D.** \+ **JAN K.** ]

 **JAN:** If mr. fielding kills you can i have ur plans 4 the rocket ship

* * *

**wednesday, may 11th; grade 9**

martin’s running late—mr. lukas hardly ever _actually_ supervises after-school detention, though it’s technically part of his job, but with martin’s luck the day _he_ isn’t there when it begins will be the day mr. _lukas_ is there to chew him out.

he’s grateful, for once, to be wrong, arriving six and a half minutes after he should have to the sight of an empty desk at the front and a burst of excited shouts from a moderate collection of his present friends at his appearance.

“thought you _died,_ blackwood,” whistles jude from the far end of the room. “you’re _never_ late. montauk was convinced mrs. keay had finally sacrificed you to the devil or something.”

“was _not,_ ” says julia from the next seat over, loudly and extraordinarily unconvincingly. 

“i got caught up in the library!” martin throws his hands up in a placating gesture. jude cracks a smile and quirks a dark eyebrow, squinting in playful scrutiny. “leitner was giving me the third degree about an overdue book, _jeez._ ” 

“‘kay, i _guess_ you’re off the hook for now.” jude rocks back in her seat, balancing a pen precariously between her nose and upper lip—her nose is a bit upturned, and it doesn’t really work, but she gives it a few wobbly tries anyway before giving up and beginning to twirl it around her fingers instead. “where’s king?”

“oh, melanie’s at a swim meet,” says martin. “she’s got a pass from mr. fairchild to skip detention and go to the meet ‘cause she can’t miss another one, she has to do the hundred fly.” jude wrinkles her nose, and martin rolls his eyes. “antonia haley says she carries the team, _jude,_ and our track record with sports has _sort_ of sucked this year.”

“aw, lame. _you_ at least got anything? today was boring as hell for all of us, puh- _lease_ tell me _something_ interesting happened today.”

“ _my_ day wasn’t boring,” says karolina mildly from the corner, not looking up from the enormous book her nose is buried in.

“today was boring as hell for _almost_ all of us,” jude amends. “seriously, c’mon, gimme _something._ ” 

“go light a dumpster on fire, that’s entertainment,” mumbles karolina distractedly.

“it’s no fun by _myself,_ ” laments jude, leaning forwards in her seat until she’s bent almost in two, her top half sprawling flat over the desktop in a showy display of despondency. “diego’s _‘spended_ , and so’s jordan, and sandy, and eugene is kind of a weirdo to hang out with alone. i can’t even hang out with _nikola,_ she’s got too much homework this week.” the sad-face emoticon is nearly audible in her voice.

“how do you know _that?_ ” asks julia.

“she _told_ me, duh.”

“she, like, barely speaks english.”

“you could go mess around with mike, or something,” says martin, cutting off jude’s _definitely_ inflammatory reply. “you guys are friends, right?” jude picks her head up from her desk and cocks it to the side, grimacing and making a little so-so gesture with her hand.

“eh, he’s a _bit_ peeved at me right now. accidentally gave him the wrong cheat sheet for a geometry test yesterday and he bombed it.”

“what about michael and helen?” julia asks, fiddling with the clasp on her pencil case.

“aw, hell, i owe them _money,_ ” jude wails in mourning, facedown on the desk again. “ _assholes_ scammed me out of two hundred smackers last week at a concert and i only had fifty on hand. i had to duck in a closet to get away from them between fourth and fifth period.”

“just pay them back, i _know_ you have a hundred and fifty dollars,” says martin.

“yeah, but i don’t _want_ to. it was an illicit gamble. i’m only sixteen, i can’t be held liable,” wheedles jude. 

“it wasn’t an _illicit gamble,_ i was there, you just bet two hundred dollars that usher would win the next volleyball game and then we slammed them into the ground,” says julia, poking jude’s shoulder, exposed by her tank top. “you’re _so_ stupid, making that bet, everyone knows usher’s team _sucks—_ “

“ugh, who _cares,_ ” jude says. 

“what’d _you_ do today?” martin asks then, directing his question to karolina. she peeks at him over the top of her book momentarily, and he thinks she’s about to ignore him as her eyes flash back to the text for a long second before she folds the corner of her page over and snaps the heavy thing closed. the thing is old-looking, and the front reads _the complete works of jules verne_ in a gilt scrawl.

“i was late today,” she says, in her customary vague-ish way, drumming her perpetually mildly dirty fingernails on the cover of her book. “the underground line i was on had a...problem. so i had to walk.”

“oh, along ninth street?”

“mmm, no,” karolina says.

“well—“

“i walked on the tracks, of course.” she says it as though he were ridiculous not to think of it. martin likes karolina, but he finds her very strange. he can never tell when she’s being sarcastic or not—her pale eyes sparkle and the corner of her mouth pulls up into a little half-smile as though she’s telling him a joke, but her ears don’t go all red like they usually do when she lies, so he isn’t sure. “it was...fun. i like the tunnels. journey to the center of the earth, yeah?” she taps her book again, smiling a fraction of an inch wider. martin purses his lips.

“just don’t fall.”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” karolina hums vacantly, picking her book back up and returning to the page she’d left off on. julia, who’d clearly been eavesdropping, rolls her eyes in a _what a whacko_ sort of way before scribbling another sentence onto the paper on her desk.

the door slams open at that moment, revealing an out-of-breath pair of boys—there’s oliver, bent over, supporting himself with one hand on the doorknob and the other on his knee as he tries to catch his lost breath, and graham, leaning on oliver’s shoulder, shoving his glasses up into his dark hair and dragging a sleeve down his sweaty face.

“he’s not even _here,_ shouts graham, flicking his glasses back down and squinting at mr. lukas’s empty desk. “ms. _harvey_ isn’t even here! we ran all that fucking way for nothing!”

“how far?” jude asks immediately, grinning and leering over the front of her desk. 

“orchestra hall,” groans oliver, dragging his bag off of his shoulder and dropping it under a nearby desk with a loud _thunk._ “there’s something wrong with my violin.”

“d’ya do something to it?”

“no,” oliver spits, “i’m careful with that thing. i don’t know what happened, the strings are all out of whack and they don’t align with my bow right.” he pulls a water bottle out of his bag and throws it to graham, probably a bit harder that he needed to. graham mutters an “ow, fuck” as it collides with his sternum and drops into his hands, before he uncaps it and takes a drink.

“yeah, mr. grifter was pissed,” says graham, after swallowing. “i could hear him yelling at you from, like, the hallway.” jude snorts with laughter. oliver looks to martin, somewhat pleadingly.

martin makes a _what-do-you-want-me-to-do_ expression and points to oliver’s bag, which is noticeably lacking the offending instrument. “where _is_ it, anyhow?”

“left it in the practice room,” oliver mutters, digging a well-worn purple binder out of the big pocket and flipping it open to his history homework. “i was already late and i honestly just wanted out of there. mr. grifter said he’d fix it.”

“i honestly can’t believe that, like, that’s his name. his _real_ actual name,” says julia, leaning over her desktop, propped up on her elbows. “imagine marrying someone and your last name just turns into “thief.” wait, does he _have_ a wife?”

“i don’t think so,” says karolina.

jude snorts again. “as if.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keeping manuela in my thoughts and prayers


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (might be a while before the next update. havent been too inspired lately. got zero intentions of leaving this unfinished but it might take a bit. as always find me on tumblr [here](http://mag055.tumblr.com)

**wednesday, february 7th through sunday, february 11th, grade 8**

Private Message: **NAOMI H.** \+ **EVAN L.**  
[Load previous messages?] --> NO

**NAOMI** : i don’t like the foyer rooms  
 **NAOMI** : where we come in every day, i mean. by the breezeway exit, the bit where all the people that aren’t teachers have their offices  
 **NAOMI** : there’s something wrong with them  
 **EVAN** : What do you mean?  
 **NAOMI** : i don’t know  
 **NAOMI** : i can’t really describe it. they’re all weird differently  
 **NAOMI** : whenever i have to take the attendance sheets to rosie. and i have to go through mr. bouchard’s office to get to her desk  
 **NAOMI** : even if he isn’t even there  
 **NAOMI** : i always feel like he’s watching me

* * *

**JOHN** : Can you get me the biology paper from Mr Dekker  
 **JANE** : do it yourself  
 **JOHN** : Please  
 **JOHN** : Or at least just come with me while I go get it  
 **JANE** : no i have to go to martin’s after school  
 **JOHN** : Fucker  
 **JANE** : i’m serious he needs me for a thing for his history project or something? you’ll survive going to get a stupid lab sheet from mr. dekker  
 **JOHN** : He hates me I dont want to be in there alone with him  
 **JANE** : that’s your own fault  
 **JOHN** : What did I even do  
 **JANE** : you put a water beetle in his coffee at the end of last semester because you thought he failed you on the mid-term on purpose but actually you just suck at biology  
 **JOHN** : That wasnt me  
 **JANE** : nicole baxter SAW you do it  
 **JOHN** : Nicole baxter is a snitch  
 **JOHN** : Anyway its not like he drank it or anything it doesnt even matter  
 **JANE** : yeah but that's WHY he doesn't like you  
 **JANE** : i have to go martin’s yelling for me  
 **JOHN** : Ugh fine   
**JOHN** : Say hi from me  
 **JANE** : i always do <3  
 **JOHN** : Yeah yeah

* * *

**GEORGIE** : i just get weird vibes from him!!! thats all  
 **GEORGIE** : i dont think hes like. a Bad Guy i just think hes kinda creepy  
 **MELANIE** : but WHY tho thats the part i dont get  
 **MELANIE** : he barely even talks to u  
 **MELANIE** : is that it??? bc if hes just creepy bc hes quiet idk how u dated jon for all of seventh grade  
 **GEORGIE** : no thats not it!!! idk he just. puts me on edge  
 **MELANIE** : oliver banks puts you on edge.  
 **GEORGIE** : yes!!!  
 **GEORGIE** : theres something about him i dont like  
 **GEORGIE** : and im not sure what it is

* * *

**BASIRA** : You have to stop picking fights.   
**DAISY** : oh what’s he going to do throw me out of a window?   
**BASIRA** : He might.   
**BASIRA** : I still think that’s what happened to Rob Kelly.  
 **DAISY** : i’m NOT scared of him he’s a scrawny little weirdo and i could snap him like a twig  
 **BASIRA** : I’m not even talking about Mike I just mean in general.  
 **DAISY** : whatever i know you’re on bouchard’s snitch squad so your advice is completely null to me  
 **BASIRA** : Quit calling it that.  
 **DAISY** : that’s what it IS it’s stupid and weird that he makes you spy on people like that  
 **DAISY** : you and martin both  
 **BASIRA** : It’s for the good of the school it’s so that nobody does bad things.  
 **DAISY** : i’m telling you it’s creepy as sin  
 **DAISY** : makes you feel like he’s watching the whole school through the students. his own little private panopticon

* * *

**HARRIET** : I have to talk to you.  
 **JAN** : No  
 **JAN** : I already said I wasnt doing it  
 **HARRIET** : I’ve advised you to stop putting so much stock in the opinions of your two friends.  
 **JAN** : Yeah and I dont actually care what you advise  
 **JAN** : WE arent friends  
 **HARRIET** : I know. I hoped you’d make your own decision, though.  
 **JAN** : Even if they hadnt said anything I still wouldve ghosted you  
 **JAN** : Nobody normal sends a letter to my house asking me to join the astronomy club at my high school  
 **JAN** : And I KNOW you sent it so dont try to deny it  
 **JAN** : Its creepy and weird and I dont like the idea  
 **HARRIET** : This isn’t even about that.  
 **HARRIET** : I mean, it kind of is? But not really.  
 **HARRIET** : Can you just meet me by the gym doors after school? The ones by the locker rooms?  
 **JAN** : No  
 **JAN** : Im not getting dragged into your weird skywatching shit  
 **HARRIET** : Please.  
 **JAN** : I said no  
 **JAN** : Stop messaging me

* * *

**AMY** : Hey, is graham being weird at all? Graham folger?  
 **OLIVER** : no, why?  
 **AMY** : He’s been acting strange around me this week, maybe i did something?  
 **OLIVER** : i’m sure it isn’t you.  
 **AMY** : Yeah, i hope not  
 **AMY** : I don’t know what’s up, though  
 **AMY** : It’s like he just….became a different person overnight

* * *

**GERARD** : dont look now student teacher alert  
 **SASHA 2** : Which one???  
 **SASHA** : were either done for or in the clear depending on who  
 **GERARD** : idk their names one of the girls  
 **GERARD** : real skinny long black hair wearing a purple sweater  
 **SASHA** : shit shit shit  
 **GERARD** : ???  
 **SASHA 2** : Oh no, that’s Emma  
 **SASHA 2** : It’s too late, Sasha, just run  
 **SASHA 2** : If you see her she’s already seen you

* * *

**monday, february 12th, grade 8**

Private Message: **MARTIN B.** \+ **TIM S.**  
[Load previous messages?] --> NO

**TIM** : ok ok what if we do this  
 **TIM** : the boat right. the lonely boat  
 **TIM** : what if we make it mr lukas’s boat  
 **MARTIN** : What do you mean  
 **TIM** : like. ok  
 **TIM** : you know how he always talks about it like its his wife or something  
 **TIM** : and you know how we were drafting a myth about a ghost ship kinda thing for the project  
 **MARTIN** : Yeah…  
 **TIM** : idk one of the sashas thought itd be funny if the boat in the myth was named the tundra  
 **TIM** : see if mr lukas even notices when hes grading our stuff  
 **TIM** : twenty bucks says he wont  
 **MARTIN** : No bet but maybe it is a little funny  
 **TIM** : like i said it was not-sashas idea  
 **MARTIN** : Quit calling her that  
 **MARTIN** : Just because you knew one of them first doesn’t make the other one suddenly NOT Sasha   
**TIM** : i have to distinguish them SOMEHOW!!!! if you just say sasha they both turn their heads and look  
 **TIM** : i cant very well call them blonde sasha and redhead sasha  
 **MARTIN** : I mean that’s what i do  
 **MARTIN** : Just in my head, though  
 **MARTIN** : Wait do you call her not-Sasha to her face???  
 **TIM** : yeah she doesnt care  
 **TIM** : in fact both of them think its hilarious theyve got some of those little reusable plastic nametags they pull out sometimes to irritate jon  
 **TIM** : hello my name is not sasha james

* * *

martin runs into jude and her friends behind the school building on a monday.

he’d been in detention, of course, because he’s late almost every morning and he had gotten unlucky enough to have mrs. keay for first period—a known despiser of tardiness—but he didn’t really mind. each of his friends were in detention with him at least once a week, so he had no shortage of social interaction (a welcome change from middle school) and the detention supervisor, mr. lukas, or his student teacher, emma harvey, were hardly ever there to make sure they kept quiet. 

he leaves through the back, like he always does, the door behind the cafeteria, the one that only him and jon and the red-haired sasha and the freaky twins know about (the twins know about it most intimately, though, and martin has honestly started thinking of it as _michael and helen’s door_ ) that spits him out in the parking lot next to the dumpsters and the teacher’s cars and jude perry.

“hey, marto,” she whistles, co-opting tim’s affectionate nickname, and smacks martin’s backpack. martin staggers forwards from the blow before whirling around, being met with jude’s round face.

“hi, jude-y,” says martin readily in response, and jude beams. 

jude perry is not a scary girl, to martin. she’s shorter than him, for one, though not by much. she’s a bit rude and a bit teasing, but she’s funny and seemed to like martin well enough, so he never really understood the strange look of fear that jon’s face wore whenever he mentioned jude by name.

her friends, though, were a different story. by all rights, martin supposes diego is the _actual_ leader of whatever their little gang calls itself—it’s just that martin knows jude better, so he associates _them_ with her rather than the other way around. 

diego is alright. he’s a senior and he’s big, bigger than the rest of them—is that why he’s in charge? or is it because he’s older?—with his dark hair in a permanent buzz cut. his eyes are narrow and very scrutinizing, flicking all around everyone he sees like he’s searching them for weapons. he wears a leather jacket with safety pins in the sleeves and a pair of steel-toe work boots that actually belong to his father. martin supposes he likes him.

the rest of them run together a little bit in martin’s head—they’re not as friendly to him as jude or stick out in a crowd as much as diego. eugene, the twitchy eleventh-grader with the sharp face and mean eyes that keeps an ice pick in his tall boots, and lee, who’s always got bandages on his fingers and talks like he’s trying not to make every sentence contain a swear word. sandy, tall and lean and sharp, who stalks everywhere like she’s furious even when she’s laughing, and jordan, who’s in martin’s grade and always wears a baseball cap and upon being asked what he wants to be for a living will always say _exterminator_ with an unnerving amount of anticipatory glee. jason, with the glasses, who never seems like he really wants to be there, megan in her high heels who’s always trading verbal barbs with jude, and stringy-haired sabina, who wears a heavy bomber jacket and always just looks morose. 

there’s only a handful of them here now, though. there’s diego, of course, who is always there, kicking at the stinging nettles that grow from the cracks where the asphalt meets the school’s outer wall. there’s jordan, curly brown hair falling in his eyes, sitting on the side of the cement receiving ramp and using his thumb and forefinger to hold a struggling mayfly to the flame of his silver cigarette lighter, as well as eugene, who’s leaning over the yellow railing and watching him interestedly. and there’s jude, propped against the railing on the other side and rocking on her heels in a fidgety sort of way, who has stopped smiling and is simply watching martin.

(jon knows a lot about these people. more than martin thinks he really has a reason to. he keeps the knowledge to himself, mostly, because it makes georgie and tim stare at him uneasily when he rattles off facts he should not know, but he lets things slip, sometimes. and so martin knows some of what jon knows, just like basira does. he knows pieces, only, though, in the frustrating kind of way that reminds him of trying to finish a jigsaw puzzle that one of his annoying cousins had stolen the last piece of.

he knows that there is a closet behind the shop classroom that only eugene vanderstock has entered in recent memory, but he does not know what is inside.

he knows that diego molina drives a steel-gray saturn to the same apartment block every day after school, across town from the one he actually lives in, but he does not know what he does there.

he knows that jordan kennedy is very deeply in love, but he does not know with whom.

he thinks he might ask jon.)

"busy tomorrow?" asks jude, snapping martin out of his reverie. he thinks for a moment--mostly performatively, because he _knows_ he's never busy on tuesdays--and shakes his head.

"no, why?"

"ritual sacrifice," someone says.

"shut _up,_ kennedy," someone replies, followed by the sharp _smack_ of eugene's palm impacting with the back of jordan's head.

jude shakes her head, ignoring the two boys, who've quickly struck up an impressively silent argument between the slats of the railing. "i wanted to talk about the stuff you guys are doing for history. the myths, and stuff. it, uh, it seems cool."

jude perry is not known for her interest in academic pursuits. he decides she isn't copying, since she's in european history this year, not world history like him. martin wonders what, exactly, about their project she finds interesting.

he wonders why she looks so shifty.

* * *

**TIM** : anyway. get back to me about mr lukas and his boat i think its fucking hilarious but the sasha squad told me to ask the whole group  
 **MARTIN** : Will do  
 **TIM** : and let us know if you have any other idea for myths  
 **TIM** : to go along with the entities  
 **TIM** : i think itd be funny try and keep in the theme of basing it off people we know  
 **TIM** : just to see if they notice. they usually dont  
 **MARTIN** : Hmmm, okay i can probably do that  
 **MARTIN** : Definitely no shortage of strange stuff to spin spooky stories out of  
 **TIM** : yeah somethings up with this school  
 **MARTIN** : A bit ominous, yeah?  
 **MARTIN** : What makes you say that  
 **TIM** : dunno  
 **TIM** : stuffs just weird  
 **TIM** : ive just got a feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theories? spare theories anybody?


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long finishing fire marengo wrung me out like a dishrag

**friday, april 15th; grade 10**

[Group Message: **space trio** ]  
[Load previous messages?] —> NO

**MANUELA:** answer  
 **CARTER:** why are you texting us we are sitting on either side of you  
 **MANUELA:** doesn’t matter it’s urgent  
 **JAN:** Go  
 **CARTER:** hit me  
 **MANUELA:** it's my turn next I’m going to make sure the bottle lands on one of you so be cool  
 **JAN:** Why  
 **MANUELA:** close your eyes and imagine I’ve got you by the shoulders and I’m shaking you like a magic eight-ball  
 **MANUELA:** tell me kilbride. do you know how to play spin the bottle  
 **JAN:** Yes Im not 5  
 **MANUELA:** well I’m sneaking a peek at who else is still playing and you’re both a damn sight nicer than toby carlisle and sarah baldwin so if I have to lock lips with anyone here it’s going to be you two

“quit texting during the game, chilcott, kilbride, dominguez,” calls annabelle domineeringly from her perch next to a bored-looking oliver on the loveseat, her back arched over the armrest and her long legs draped over his lap like so much fabric. “not gonna be gossiping _without_ me, at _my_ party, on _my_ watch.” 

carter sticks his tongue out, jan makes a _blah blah_ gesture with his free hand, and manuela gives annabelle a darkly polished middle finger. 

**CARTER:** miss dominguez, itd be an honor  
 **MANUELA:** yeah yeah whatever  
 **CARTER:** is that everyone though???  
 **MANUELA:** yeah  
 **MANUELA:** tova’s spin landed on amy  
 **CARTER:** oh i hadnt noticed  
 **JAN:** I thought oliver was still playing  
 **CARTER:** no he just counts off five minutes in the closet every round  
 **MANUELA:** “agents of terminus are the best timekeepers” —annabelle cane, 2018  
 **MANUELA:** ah shit hold on let me spin

manuela spins the big glass bottle at just the right angle for the cap of it to land on jan, the amber liquid sloshing a bit inside. sarah baldwin looks disappointed.

“oh-kay, let’s go, airhead,” says manuela, on her feet and yanking a mildly bewildered jan up with her by the wrist. 

“see ya, scrubs,” whistles melanie from the couch, raising a plastic cup of something fluorescent green in solidarity. jan gives her a mock salute as manuela drags him off. oliver glances at the clock as the closet door shuts, and begins to count. 

**MANUELA:** and we’re back  
 **CARTER:** how was it  
 **JAN:** Manuelas a bad kisser  
 **MANUELA:** AM NOT

(carter does not, in fact, stay cool, and can’t manage to hold in his laughter when oliver calls time and jan exits the closet wearing more of manuela’s dark lipstick than manuela herself.)

* * *

**tuesday, december 10th; grade 9**

[Group Message: **ANNABELLE C.** \+ **MIKE C.** \+ **SASHA 2 J.** ]  
[Load previous messages?] —> NO

**SASHA 2:** I don’t like English class  
 **SASHA 2:** Ms Keay doesn’t like me  
 **MIKE:** i wouldn’t take it personally  
 **MIKE:** she picks favorites she’s weird like that  
 **MIKE:** she likes michael and helen a lot which is genuinely baffling since they’re the freakiest people this side of the prime meridian  
 **SASHA 2:** No she legitimately actively dislikes me  
 **SASHA 2:** I don’t even know what I did  
 **ANNABELLE:** you put elmer’s glue in her coffee last wednesday.  
 **SASHA 2:** WOW  
 **MIKE:** glue in the coffee classic james  
 **MIKE:** did she notice  
 **SASHA 2:** Not until she took a drink -_-  
 **ANNABELLE:** you're so MEAN i should report you.  
 **ANNABELLE:** principal bouchard should lock you up for your crimes.  
 **ANNABELLE:** i have a duty to the student body.  
 **MIKE:** has anyone ever told you that the way you type sucks. with the full stops i mean  
 **MIKE:** i can never tell when you’re being sarcastic  
 **MIKE:** like do you do it on purpose?  
 **ANNABELLE:** yeah.

* * *

**thursday, june 4th; grade 10**

“there’s worms in the walls,” jane says one morning, abruptly, as basira sits down across from her in algebra. 

“what?” says basira.

“there are worms,” jane enunciates, “in the walls.”

“no, no, i heard you, i just—like, i don’t know what you mean. _i’ve_ never seen any worms in here.” 

“they’re _there,_ ” intones jane, scratching at her arms distractedly, stammering from the effort of getting the words out. “i know they are. j-john told me. he says they live in the w-wall, by—by the water heaters, in the boiler room. we—we have english with mrs. keay in the room right above it, and—and we can’t _see_ them, but we _hear_ them,” she says in a terrified whisper, her luminous brown eyes reflecting her clearly genuine fear of these— _mystery_ worms. “every day. we hear them _squirming._ ”

basira purses her lips and raises an eyebrow skeptically at jane over the rim of her glasses. jane blanches, making every freckle on her face stand out like they’d been drawn on in permanent marker.

“please,” she says, her voice rising in pitch with franticity. “ _please_ believe me.”

“okay, okay,” says basira. “what do you want me to do?”

“oh, i don’t _know,_ ” jane says despondently. “just—just—can you come down there with us after school? we don’t want to go by ourselves.”

“fine,” basira agrees.

after school, basira waits by the stairwell, tim sitting on the tile next to her. she’d told him about the expedition at lunch, and he’d immediately informed basira that he’d be joining her.

“are they even gonna—oh!” tim gets halfway through a sentence bemoaning john and jane’s lateness before jane’s head pokes around the corner of the stairwell, followed by john’s and, bizarrely, georgie’s. tim waves at her.

“i’m here for bodyguard protection and moral support,” georgie explains. jane nods affirmatively, looking uncharacteristically pensive. tim cracks a smile and opens his mouth, presumably to tease jane, but closes it when john gives him a virulent glare.

georgie leads the way into the basement—tim follows her, then jane, then john, and basira brings up the rear, looking around behind her to make sure that no errant students or suspicious teachers could see them. 

when they’re all gathered in the dirty, unused boiler room in front of the massive water heaters, tim speaks.

“so, what are we _doing_ down here, anyway? i mean, i know about these—these _worms,_ right, but—”

“i’m going to find out where they _are._ ” jane cuts him off forcefully, even though her shoulders are shaking from nerves. next to her, john just looks unenthusiastically resolute. 

“...how?” tim looks unimpressed. “if they’re in the walls, and all that.” john glares at him again.

“jane’s a _witch,_ ” georgie explains, only a little condescendingly (the duh is all but tacked onto the end of her sentence), as though it were something everyone knew the significance of.

basira and tim just look at her.

“ _sooo_ , she’s gonna, uh, read the energies, um, align their chakras? whatever it is she does. and that’ll help us locate the, uh, the worms.” georgie mouths _i don’t really get it_ to basira before elbowing jane. “right?”

“uh-huh, yeah,” jane replies, a bit dazedly, shaking her head as if to clear water out of her ears. georgie looks at her, dark eyebrows tilting down in concern.

“are you okay?”

“mmn,” jane mumbles shallowly, shrugging, giving neither a yes nor a no. her eyes rove around the room searchingly. on her other side, a look of deep disturbance suddenly clouds over john’s face, and he hisses, “shut up for a second. i hear something.”

all five of them fall silent. john and jane are staring, now, both of them, with deep intensity, at the wall behind the water heaters.

“there,” says john.

basira _knows_ that something very bad is about to happen a split-second before it does, just in time to lunge forwards and pull georgie out of the way.

the wall sort of—well, _implodes_ is probably the best word, but what the five fifteen-year-olds would end up coming up with later on is _crunches inwards_ —exposing with a large crash a large quantity of pinkish insulation ( _house meat,_ melanie and georgie always giggle), powdery drywall, wooden beams, and hundreds upon hundreds of inch-long, yellowish-white maggots coating every inch of the inside of the wall.

tim, basira, john, jane and georgie stand in frozen, horrified silence for all of ten seconds before jane _screams,_ so ear-piercingly that it makes all the hairs on basira’s arms stand up, and then _all_ of them are screaming—squeaky and shocked (basira), ragged and panicky (john), high-pitched and terrified (jane), loud and unbroken (tim), and more of a prolonged yelp of disgust than anything (georgie). the maggots squirm wetly around and through the remains of the wall, beginning to wriggle their way across the floor exploratorily and coming dangerously close to john and jane’s scuffed-up shoes.

basira’s the closest to the door to the boiler room, so she bolts first, crossing the huge dingy basement in impressive time, shoving the door open and rocketing up the stairs all the way down the hall and out onto the lawn as fast as her ballet flats will carry her. tim’s next, sneakers pounding on the linoleum and then on the sidewalk, and then georgie, who almost slips on the threshold of the door outside and just barely manages to catch herself on the railing, and last come john and jane, with pallid, fearful faces and a white-knuckled death grip on each other.

they stand there for a moment, catching their breath from the impromptu 100-meter dash. georgie’s sitting in the grass, inspecting the bottoms of her shoes for suspicious maggot-fluids. basira fixes her headscarf, tucking a few stray wisps of hair back into it, and wipes her smudged glasses off on the hem of her shirt. john and jane are still clutching each other, breaths shaky, jane’s face buried in john’s shoulder.

“thought you guys liked bugs,” wheezes tim, holding the stitch in his side. basira huffs out a startled laugh.

“shut _up,_ tim,” wail jane and john in unison.


	8. eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates are probably gonna slow down im starting school next week

**friday, december 13th; grade 11**

Group Message: **KAROLINA G**. + **MANUELA D.** \+ **JORDAN K.** \+ **GRAHAM F.** \+ **JANE P.**  
[Load previous messages?]--> NO

 **MANUELA** : waitwait wait add natalie  
**KAROLINA** : Ennis?  
**MANUELA** : yeah

 **KAROLINA G.** has added **NATALIE E.** to the chat!

 **MANUELA** : nat we need your opinion on something  
**NATALIE** : ?? whats up  
**JORDAN** : you know the james sisters?  
**NATALIE** : yeah i do  
**JORDAN** : which one’s sasha????  
**NATALIE** : oh i have no idea  
**NATALIE** : theyve lived on my street our whole lives and ive never been able to tell  
**GRAHAM** : Im TELLING you sashas the one with like a bazillion more freckles  
**MANUELA** : that’s bs. sasha’s the skinnier one with blonde hair  
**JORDAN** : I thought sasha was the one that wore glasses  
**KAROLINA** : So did i  
**NATALIE** : the taller one?  
**JANE** : they’re both named sasha  
**GRAHAM** : WHAT  
**MANUELA** : no way  
**NATALIE** : how do you know???  
**JANE** : they told me a while ago we were doing a group project in history and i asked  
**JORDAN** : that’s a filthy lie you and I worked together on that project  
**JANE** : it was in world history, stupid  
**JANE** : you and i did our project in euro  
**GRAHAM** : Wait so they just told you? Outright?  
**JANE** : yes  
**GRAHAM** : Did you get it on video  
**JANE** : no i didn’t fucking get it on video????  
**JORDAN** : I literally do not believe you  
**JORDAN** : melanie tried to weasel it out of them for weeks last semester  
**KAROLINA** : I’ll attest to that. It was a masterpiece of a campaign.  
**MANUELA** : whatever kennedy she says it I believe her  
**JANE** : yeah jordan, i don’t have to take this from someone who’s had sex with me  
**NATALIE** : what???  
**JORDAN** : NO  
**MANUELA** : YOU WHAT  
**GRAHAM** : ?????  
**JORDAN** : I DIDN’T

* * *

it’s valentine’s. sour-faced mrs. keay is making everyone write romantic poems for their english class like they’re fourth-graders and jude is not happy.

“how’m i even supposed to _start?_ ” she moans despondently, chin propped up on her hands. across the table, nikola writes in her notebook, focused and apparently on a roll.

“maybe get inspiration from classmate?” she says after a pause, looking up from her writing. jude peeks down, but it’s all illegible russian scribbled in eye-searing hot pink gel pen, so she quickly averts her eyes.

“ugh, no—it has to be _romantic_. for valentine’s. you guys had valentine’s, right?”

nikola rolls her eyes. “ _yes_ , russia celebrates valentine’s. surely there is one person at school that you are having romance for.”

“hmm. maybe i can write about miss montague.” jude taps a finger on her chin, staring into space. nikola purses her lips.

“that will not take well.”

“yeah, you’re probably right. jane?”

“ _not_ advised.”

“annabelle, then.”

“miss spider is not liking you,” says nikola knowingly.

“i know.” jude drums her fingers on the table restlessly. “i’m runnin’ out of ideas. who’s taken?”

“john and jane write for each other, duh. manuela and karolina, double duh. georgie writes for helen, melanie writes for georgie, helen writes for melanie. i think oliver writes for annabelle? and mike always writes for gerard, of course,” nikola rattles off, counting on her fingers theatrically. “all of your friends are taken.”

“you didn’t _list_ all my friends.”

nikola raises an eyebrow, grinning. “you will write love poem for lee rentoul?”

“point taken,” jude grumbles, letting her forehead thunk down to rest on the table. her hair fans out from her head in a dark halo. “ugh, this sucks. i’m gonna have to write about michael at this rate.”

“michael is nice.”

“yeah, maybe to _you_. i shouldn't have waited so long.”

nikola hums in assent, having returned to her work. jude looks up and stares at her in curiosity for a moment before asking, “hey, who’re _you_ writing for?”

nikola predictably goes a bit pink before quietly replying, “sasha with yellow hair.”

jude sniffs and shrugs. “yeah, she’s a cutie.”

* * *

**saturday, april 4th, grade 9**

[Group Message created: **MELANIE K.** \+ **HELEN R.** \+ **JON S.** ]

[Enter name for Group Message?] —> **YES**

[Name of Group Message:] **hot goss collection point**

[Group Message has been renamed to **hot goss collection point** by **HELEN R.** ]

 **JON** : That’s stupid  
**HELEN** : talk to the hand  
**HELEN** : group name doesn't matter anyway. where's melanie?  
**JON** : She’s eating dinner  
**HELEN** : tell her to hurry up i have to spill some things before i forget about it  
**MELANIE** : ok im here  
**MELANIE** : whats the sitch  
**HELEN** : wait okay did he tell you  
**MELANIE** : ??? did who tell me what  
**HELEN** : lukas  
**MELANIE** : OH no he hasnt said anything to me today  
**HELEN** : good i don’t trust him to tell this accurately  
**JON** : Where’s your info coming from  
**HELEN** : do YOU know what i’m on about?  
**JON** : I think I do?  
**JON** : About Manuela, right  
**HELEN** : yes sort of  
**HELEN** : naomi’s my source i trust her more than her boyfriend  
**MELANIE** : get on w it  
**HELEN** : okay okay so  
**HELEN** : you two know carter and jan  
**MELANIE** : yeah obviously  
**JON** : I do  
**HELEN** : so they go out with manuela a few days ago right. and they break into a mcdonald’s  
**MELANIE** : OH I HEARD ABT THIS  
**MELANIE** : THEY GOT. FUCKIN  
**MELANIE** : STUCK IN THE PLAYPLACE  
**HELEN** : YES  
**HELEN** : who did YOU hear it from  
**MELANIE** : uhhhh sarah and daniel  
**MELANIE** : and natalie  
**HELEN** : oh that makes sense  
**JON** : What does  
**HELEN** : that manuela would tell natalie  
**HELEN** : they’re good friends right???  
**JON** : I mean I think so  
**JON** : Natalie’s kind of weird so I don’t talk to her very much  
**MELANIE** : weird how  
**JON** : She’s in the grade below us I have no classes with her I don’t know how she even heard about our project  
**JON** : But she came up to me at lunch the other day and asked me to make her a dark priestess  
**MELANIE** : lol  
**HELEN** : what project?  
**JON** : Ask Tim and the Sashas it’ll take me a long time to explain  
**JON** : Or ask me, just another time  
**HELEN** : :/  
**HELEN** : well anyway  
**HELEN** : i have exclusive info from naomi about what happened to the space cadets  
**MELANIE** : oooh do tell  
**JON** : I’m on the edge of my seat  
**HELEN** : i mean you two clearly know what actually HAPPENED to them they got locked in the play place for the entire night  
**HELEN** : like, 11:30 pm to 6 am  
**HELEN** : they went to the one on dowlings that’s not open 24 hours  
**MELANIE** : brutal  
**HELEN** : yeah and it apparently, like, FUCKED them up?  
**HELEN** : genuinely  
**HELEN** : none of them will talk about it and they’re all hanging out with each other a bizarre amount. glued together at the hips  
**HELEN** : more than usual, i mean. i’ve yet to see any of them without the other two since the incident and it’s been a few days  
**MELANIE** : are they ok  
**HELEN** : yes that’s the thing  
**HELEN** : they’re fine. nothing was wrong with them  
**HELEN** : i mean the only reason naomi knows all this is because she and evan were the ones to come orchestrate the rescue mission  
**HELEN** : jan and carter didn’t have their phones but manuela managed to get a text out to naomi before hers died  
**HELEN** : as far as i know nothing ACTUALLY happened to any of them but naomi says they were all very jittery after  
**HELEN** : she didn’t get anything out of carter, she said “evan had to play a game of fucking operation to extract him from the weird little dome window box he was in” (naomi herne, 2019)  
**HELEN** : jan was stuck by the window with a view of the parking lot and was having a freakout about something gigantic looking in at him  
**HELEN** : manuela apparently fell behind the structure and dropped her glasses, she couldn’t get out because she couldn’t see  
**HELEN** : and when they got her out, all naomi said she could talk about was how dark it was  
**MELANIE** : thats creepy  
**HELEN** : yes  
**HELEN** : to me, what’s weird is that  
**HELEN** : after they rescued the boys, when evan asked jan if he knew where manuela was  
**HELEN** : he said that when they were stuck, he couldn’t hear her. or carter for that matter  
**HELEN** : but when naomi found manuela, she was only a couple of feet away from where jan was  
**HELEN** : and she said she couldn’t hear them, either  
**MELANIE** : ew thats so weird  
**MELANIE** : u sure theyre ok  
**HELEN** : i mean, no  
**HELEN** : i don’t talk to them really  
**HELEN** : i never noticed before now that they have every single class together, though  
**JON** : Maybe they did it on purpose  
**HELEN** : yes maybe  
**HELEN** : i don’t know  
**MELANIE** : r u curious  
**HELEN** : honestly not really. i don’t care enough to have to know what happened  
**HELEN** : something about it just doesn’t really sit right with me  
**MELANIE** : no i see what u mean  
**MELANIE** : if i find out anything ill drop it here  
**JON** : Me too, I suppose  
**MELANIE** : fr?  
**JON** : Yes  
**JON** : This is kind of interesting  
**JON** : I definitely need to know


	9. nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> putting this work on hiatus for a while, sorry guys. haven't had too much inspiration for it lately, everything in this chapter is emergency backlog stuff. i still intend to come back to it at some point, but i don't know when that will be. sorry

**wednesday, june third; grade ten**

**SASHA** : no way i am NOT going  
 **SASHA** : i dont like him and i dont like his sister and you know what? i kind of dont like you  
 **ANNABELLE** : you’ll regret it.  
 **SASHA** : bite me  
 **ANNABELLE** : i don’t know what your problem is. michael’s been nothing but nice to both of us.  
 **SASHA** : okay well excuse me if i dont trust YOU  
 **SASHA** : youre responsible for whatever happened yesterday i know you are  
 **ANNABELLE** : i’ve yet to see any actual proof of that.   
**ANNABELLE** : it all worked out okay in the end.  
 **SASHA** : whatever  
 **SASHA** : im NOT going  
 **ANNABELLE** : your sister can come. michael and helen wouldn’t care, they’d think double sashas were funny.  
 **SASHA** : yeah because theyre massive creeps!!!  
 **ANNABELLE** : just think about it.  
 **SASHA** : whatever freakazoid  
 **SASHA** : dont text me again unless its actual student council business  
 **ANNABELLE** : as you wish.

* * *

**friday, january seventh; grade eleven**

“hey, did you guys fuck jordan kennedy?” tim twists awkwardly in his seat and hisses to the back row, georgie’s curly head peeking over his shoulder interestedly. john and jane, practically sitting in each others’ laps from being squished into the same seat, stop whispering to each other and look up in mild annoyance from whatever is in their cupped hands—which, upon lowering their arms from their spot against their close-together torsos, turns out to be a fairly large and rather fuzzy caterpillar. they share a glance, apparently considering their answer, before looking back towards tim and georgie.

“absolutely,” says john, staring directly at them.

“definitely not,” giggles jane, the caterpillar making its slow squirming way over the back of her hand and onto john’s. 

“for fuck’s _sake,_ ” tim grinds, whipping back around and extricating his phone from the pocket of his skinny jeans with only a little bit of difficulty. john and jane flash identical grins that are only slightly yellowed and laugh only slightly meanly at the back of tim’s head as he pounds out a text to melanie relaying his absence of conclusive information. georgie bites her thumb against a loud snort of laughter, her top two teeth sinking slightly into the nail’s triple coat of lurid purple polish.

“you can’t just _ask_ that,” hisses ginger-sasha, smacking tim’s shoulder on his right.

“ _yeah,_ you can’t just _ask_ that,” parrots blonde-sasha, smacking tim’s shoulder on his left.

“i can’t stand you people,” tim remarks, not looking at either sister. 

“hey, does anyone have the bio assignment? i _think_ i lost my lab sheet and mr. dekker’s gonna go postal if i show up without it again,” georgie interrupts, rifling frantically through her schoolbag before dropping it to her side and tilting her head to the tiled ceiling in exasperation. “hate that guy.”

“i like him,” ginger-sasha says mildly.

“i don’t,” mutters john. “or, at least, he doesn’t like me.”

"me neither!" blonde-sasha says, smacking a hand on the table. 

“what’s he do?” asks martin, curious. john makes a face.

“failed me on purpose last semester.” 

jane pokes him. “no, he didn’t, _you_ just fail your tests,” she says. the caterpillar has disappeared, but upon closer inspection the front pocket of jane’s jacket seems to be wriggling slightly. “ _and_ you put a bug in his coffee cup right before the final exam.”

“wasn’t me.”

“was _too_ , nicole baxter _saw_ you do it.”

“yeah, well, nicole baxter’s a narc.”

“are we gonna do this _again?_ ”

a shredding noise interrupts their argument, and georgie hisses, “shit,” a piece of curly hair caught in the zipper of her bag as she wrestles with the mess inside.

“you should use binders and stuff, you know, instead of just shoving all your papers in your bag as soon as you get them. jon might have some extra folders.” martin doesn’t look up as he speaks, and misses georgie’s laser glare in his direction.

“oh, i _bet_ he would. keeps his papers straight like he’s running a god damn archive, he does,” she mutters darkly, snatching up the pencil case sitting on her desk and tossing it unceremoniously into her bag’s largest pocket. “i’m not asking him for shit. you _know_ he’ll be all high and mighty about it.” 

“it’s _so_ funny, he sounds _exactly_ like mrs. robinson when he gets like that,” teases ginger-sasha. georgie groans and puts her elbows heavily upon the desk, dropping her head limply between them and affecting an egregious parody of jon’s slightly stuck-up manner of speech. 

“georgie, _oh_ , you need academic _assistance_ , well, why didn’t you say so earlier, i could have _easily_ remedied your huge organization issue—”

“we have the biology assignment, georgie,” says jane shortly, cutting across the dramatic monologue, and georgie’s head shoots up immediately.

“oh, you’re a lifesaver.” john extracts a sheet of paper from a reddish-brown folder and holds it out to georgie, who snatches it and instantly recoils in disgust, pointing to a large wet-looking brown stain along the bottom edge. “urgh, john, what _is_ that?”

“uh, i spilled something in my bag in, like, second period? sorry,” says john, not sounding particularly sorry. “it’s nothing weird. it’s, like, soda, or something, probably?” georgie doesn’t look all that reassured. jane pulls john’s large black backpack up onto their shared desktop and sticks her hand inside, the huge thing completely swallowing her skinny arm up almost to her shoulder, and she withdraws it a moment later with more of the strange tacky liquid dripping from her fingers. she lifts her hand up to john’s face nonchalantly—ginger-sasha and blonde-sasha let out twin shrieks of horror and georgie yells “oh, gross!” as john immediately licks her palm, running his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully for a moment after. jane, apparently unconcerned, doesn’t even wipe his spit off of her hand after.

“um, i think it’s just root beer,” says john, as though that were a natural thing to have just done. 

“lemme try,” says jane, seizing his collar and pulling him down to her level. tim shouts, “come _on_ , you goddamn freaks,” as jane puts her hands on either side of john’s face and kisses him, deeply and open-mouthed, for several very long seconds. john’s eyes close and his face turns a humorous shade of traffic-light red as jane pulls away with an unpleasantly wet smacking noise, her tongue flicking out over her top lip like a lizard. “yeah, he’s right.”

all that for a soda assessment. ginger-sasha and blonde-sasha sport identical revolted expressions. georgie purses her lips.

“right. thanks,” she says flatly, gingerly beginning to scribble her name on the top of paper.

“no problem,” reply john and jane in unison. tim fake-gags.

* * *

**thursday, october thirtieth; grade eleven**

Private Message: **JON S.** and **JUDE P.**  
[Load previous messages?] → NO

**JON** : What’s going on  
 **JON** : You said you had something for me  
 **JUDE** : yah for ur weird little gossip book  
 **JON** : It’s not gossip. It’s important  
 **JUDE:** important for what??? blackmail???  
 **JON** : No  
 **JUDE** : w/e i dont even care. do whatever creepy shit you need to  
 **JUDE** : johnjane are in a fight  
 **JON** : No they’re not  
 **JON** : Those two are glued to at the hip, always have been  
 **JUDE** : not anymore lol heard them yelling at each other in the hallway on monday  
 **JON** : About what  
 **JUDE** : idk didnt stick around  
 **JUDE** : they sounded pretty pissed tho  
 **JUDE** : u know how like literally nobody knows what they even do w their time when theyre not in school? smth about that i think  
 **JON** : Are they broken up  
 **JUDE** : dunno. sounds like maybe  
 **JUDE** : ill ask

**JUDE** : yah they broke up  
 **JON** : How do you know?  
 **JUDE** : heard it from kennedy and baxter theyre laughing their asses off  
 **JUDE** : like. genuinely having to hold each other up so they dont fall over  
 **JUDE** : apparently prentiss iswfwrrgjfgjmgkgh 1437ur jktp4 5  
 **JON** : Are you okay  
 **JON** : Jude  
 **JUDE** : Hi it’s Nicole  
 **JON** : Oh. Hi Nicole  
 **JUDE** : Jordan says hi also  
 **JUDE** : Sorry give me a second  
 **JON** : What’s going on   
**JUDE** : We are. In the closet  
 **JON:** Why  
 **JUDE** : I took Jude’s phone  
 **JUDE** : Actually Jordan did so it’s his fault and also his elbow is about to puncture my lung  
 **JUDE** : So okay anyway ummm did you still want to know about Jane and John  
 **JON:** Sure I guess so  
 **JUDE** : Are you going to write it down  
 **JON** : Maybe. Should I not  
 **JUDE** : It’s a little weird that you do  
 **JUDE** : No offense  
 **JUDE** : Jordan says to tell you you’re a huge creep for it  
 **JON** : Whatever  
 **JON** : Just tell me if you’re going to  
 **JUDE** : It’s not really anything special  
 **JUDE** : She’s going with Hodge to the dance tomorrow night  
 **JON** : Her cousin?  
 **JUDE** : Of course it’s her cousin how many Timothy Hodges do you think go to this school  
 **JUDE** : It’s not like it’s actually romantic or anything she’s just doing it to get back at John because there's no way he's going to get a date in one night  
 **JON:** Doesn't Timothy have a girlfriend  
 **JON:** What about Harriet  
 **JUDE:** Yeah but she can’t go anyway she’s sick  
 **JON:** With what  
 **JUDE:** Some kind of stomach bug I don’t know  
 **JUDE:** At least that’s as far as I can tell I heard it from Jordan who heard it from Jane so who knows if it’s true  
 **JUDE:** Jordan is telling me he is very trustworthy  
 **JON** : Yes I’m sure  
 **JUDE:** Okay we have to go Jude found us she’s knocking on the closet door  
 **JUDE:** Jordan is yelling at me  
 **JUDE:** I will let you know if she pulls his arm off like she was threatening to do or not  
 **JON:** I appreciate it  
 **JON:** Goodbye  
 **JUDE:** Bye Jon


	10. interlude: from an anonymous message board

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told you i wasn't abandoning my baby. consider this off hiatus, but don't expect regular updates. i'm busy with school.

**User 160** : Greetings, students of Jonah Magnus Memorial High School. This is a private-server forum intended to link the entire student body through anonymous, real-time messaging. This undertaking has been accomplished with the goal of allowing students a space to open up or share things that they do not feel comfortable discussing publically. Nothing posted here will be revealed, sold, or released outside of the confines of the school in any way, and no students will be punished for anything disclosed on this board. I will not be revealing my identity to you all, and I encourage all of you to do the same within the confines of this forum. Do try to keep things civil.

* * *

**User 026** : this is weird. do they want us to like...spill secrets or gossip here??

**User 028** [replying to: **User 026** ]: idk 

**User 026** : ok i guess i can start?? ummm blonde sasha james can you please give me my travel mug back i know you took it

* * *

**User 147** : i’m not sure i understand the purpose of this board. if it’s intended as a place to swap gossip, nobody’s going to do it if we know there’s a teacher reading it.

**User 091** [replying to: **User 147** ]: who says theres a teacher reading it

**User 147** [replying to: **User 091** ]: just read the introduction post. i think principal bouchard wrote it.

**User 022** [replying to: **User 147** ]: Why would he do that though? Is he interested in whatever we have to say about each other?

**User 147** [replying to: **User 022** ]: i mean, yes? he has a whole group of kids that go around tattling on other kids who they catch at things. 

**User 091** [replying to: **User 147** and **User 022** ]: i forgot about the snitch squad

**User 147** [replying to: **User 022** and **User 091** ]: see? he knows. i’m not saying anything else here.

* * *

**User 155** : Can the person who took my copy of House Of Leaves please return it? Just bring it by my locker or something, I won’t be mad.

* * *

**User 004** : I heard Manuela dominguez has two whole boyfriends

**User 025** : as opposed to two half boyfriends?

**User 004** [replying to: **User 025** ]: Yeah like one whole boyfriend

**User 104** : save some for the rest of us manuela

* * *

**User 089** : hey can someone send jude perry the math homework tonight february 15th 2019 its fucking urgent

* * *

**User 006** : Can whoever’s saying timothy hodge is sleeping with jane prentiss cut it out. She’s his cousin it’s weird

**User 032** [replying to: **User 006** ]: methinks the sophomore doth protest too much

**User 006** [replying to: **User 032** ]: Fuck you

* * *

**User 094** : if anyone here has seen a tabby cat with a purple collar anywhere lately could you please let georgie barker at locker 191 know? its her cat he ran away a few days ago

* * *

**User 091** : dominic swain i know youre reading this give me my damn library book back i need it for my latin project

* * *

**User 147** : i know i said i wouldn’t be posting here at all since principal bouchard could see it, but i’ve decided that i don’t really care. annabelle cane is having a halloween party on friday, october 30th, you should all totally come!

**User 025** [replying to: **User 147** ]: can we wear costumes?

**User 147** [replying to: **User 028** ]: costuming is encouraged ::::)

* * *

**User 028** : i hate this stupid fucking school if lukas fails me on one more history test im going to kill someone 

* * *

**User 121** : Someone dropped twenty dollars in the first floor hallway. Oliver Banks picked it up, come to him to get it back.

* * *

**User 042** : does anyone here have any music recommendations? all my stuff is kind of stale. i like classic rock and techy indie stuff mostly.

**User 055** [replying to: **User 042** ]: depeche mode

**User 065** [replying to: **User 042** ]: battle tapes? or saint motel i guess

**User 030** [replying to: **User 042** ]: Bananarama

**User 071** [replying to: **User 042** ]: I like Bruce Springsteen.

* * *

**User 061** : whichever little FREAK took the bottle of coke out of my lunch better give it back or there’ll be hell to pay

* * *

**User 036** : John Amherst, for Christ’s sake, stop putting earwigs in my locker or I swear to God on everything I’ll get you arrested

* * *

**User 051** : To whoever got Melanie King suspended from the swim team this whole week; Antonia Hayley is going to fucking kill you

**User 129** [replying to: **User 051** ]: ugh seriously??? she’s our fastest racer and we have a meet on tues

**User 104** [replying to: **User 051** ]: she got her own damn self suspended and everyone knows it

**User 022** [replying to: **User 051** and **User 104** ]: What did she do?

**User 074** [replying to: **User 026** ]: She tried to kill Jared Hopworth with her pen knife

**User 104** [replying to: **User 074** ]: ?????

* * *

**User 043** : Whats the distance formula for trigonometry problems?

**User 057** [replying to: **User 043** ]: d=√(c-a)^2+(d-b)^2

**User 043** [replying to: **User 057** ]: Thanks.

* * *

**User 143** : Carter Chilcott left his physics homework in Rayner’s classroom, can someone please make sure it doesn’t get thrown out

**User 065** : on it

* * *

**User 055** : meet in the fifth practice room at 3pm on friday if you want to be in a band, we’re looking for someone to play drums

* * *

**User 064** : Whoever wrote “pretentious whore” on my locker in permanent marker, screw you.

**User 075** : Lee Rentoul

**User 014** : How many times i gotta say it wasnt fucking me

* * *

**User 013** : if anybody knows what happened after class let out yesterday, can they please explain?

**User 003** [replying to: **User 013** ]: Tessa says that lisa told her that daisy and julia got in a fight and ms. harvey had to break them up

**User 111** [replying to: **User 003** ]: amy patel you narc we know its you

**User 094** [replying to: **User 013** and **User 003** ]: yeah i heard that too but i didnt know how true it was since i heard it from jon

**User 003** [replying to: **User 111** ]: Shut up

**User 111** [replying to: **User 094** ]: jons gossip is actually almost always true its fucking weird how he knows all of it. im half convinced he has like a rumor journal that he puzzles it all out in

**User 094** [replying to: **User 111** ]: would not put it past him lol

* * *

**User 071** : If anyone here takes the train to school; the Victoria Line is down this week.

* * *

**User 028** : everyone this board sucks


End file.
